Category Archives: Potcentric

StonerwithaBoner.com = world wide weed – HEMPFEST

kathleenkbooks, potcentric, stonerIt was Hempfest in Seattle again over the weekend and after all these years the battle rages on; I’ve echoed back on this topic previously so feel free to link along:

HempFest 25th Anniversary of a Protestival in Seattle; Welcome, weedies.

Hempfest 2014. We’d win the weed war.

Keep your eye on the prize, get marijuana off the DEA Schedule 1 of most dangerous drugs and dry this spat up at the Federal Level.  It is from there AG Jeff Sessions reaches his racist, regressive ideology into the heart of marijuana regulatory authority.  It should be a local issue, better known as States’ Rights, not national because like alcohol, tobacco & gambling that are issues of the people, within a specified locality, it is up to those people to decide how they run their locality.  If Jeff Sessions needs something more to do, promote cocaine, PCP and methamphetamine up from Schedule II in exchange and chase those folks around.

The benefits of pot outweigh the risks by a long measure per the majority, it is time to admit that it is a basic plant with known properties that can be cultivated for commerce.  Abstainers are no problem, just like teetotalers and non-smokers, we all have to get along.  The “tolerant localities” would hopefully interconnect so even if regulated weed isn’t available [yet] in your town there is some place near enough to get to if needed for peace and tranquility.  Chill, people.  It’s vice management:  if you want to do something then what do you do?  Pot, pills, powder – which has proven it can be managed?  Opiate and heroin overdoses are on the rise all over, there is no longer a small village to patrol, we are in bigger segments and more isolated as individuals so our FOCUS matters.  Simple rules for pot:  not for kids, no driving, no public consumption.  So, take stock of your options and please support yourself, then you might indulge yourself.

Pot is being sold in your town, trust me… but where do the profits go?


Stoner with a boner and Stoner’s Bone of Contention are potcentric fictional memoirs of a mild man with a wild side considered memorable sexual escapades.
Affordable in print and Kindle.

#RowdierReaders.com

 

 

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420 = Decriminalize Pot or Recriminalize Alcohol

Intoxicants are an adults-only, states’ right issue in the US and pot should be moved into the “sin tax” category with alcohol, tobacco, gambling and soda pop.

Step 1 = remove marijuana from the FDA’s Schedule I status that limits research and development of it, and restricts its business options with threats of federal seizure of investments/profits.  We learned a lesson from alcohol prohibition that should not be forgotten and booze has little if any medicinal value.  [Promote methamphetamine from Schedule II, it’s earned its reputation as a soul-killer.]

I am a pro-pot indie author-publisher and have made my point various ways, including at StonerWithaBoner.com:

kathleen_k_erotica_fiction_books_typist

Free STONER match books ($1 for one, $2.50 for two)

Gazin’ through the haze: Legal Weed

“Legalize pot” is wrong slogan, it should be “Regulate pot”

 

There is even good humor in law enforcement:  http://www.king5.com/news/local/best-420-tweets-from-police/432790652

Speak up!  This is a cash-positive new industry for states with bleeding red budgets!!!!

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AG Jeff Sessions is a bad nanny. No pot? Then no alcohol or tobacco!

Consistency is an important element of being an effective nanny.  Our new attorney general Jeff Sessions evidently interprets his job to be Head Nanny as regards marijuana.  Alas, he’s of the “Just Say No” – “Heroin and Pot Are the Same Scourge upon Humanity” generation.  He needs to either get educated on marijuana in the modern age or he needs to add alcohol and tobacco to his No-No list.  Of course, those two lobbies are stronger than the newbie Pot industry (and as a former tobacco lobbyist, Jeff knows that) except the pot movement is growing stronger by the day because it is a cash-positive industry sorely needed in the country.  It provides tax income to states, it provides employment and investment opportunities.  Unlike tobacco and alcohol which have no known medicinal value, herbalists can argue the science of cannabinoids for many ailments that work as far as the patients are concerned which matters greatly to those involved with toxic cancer cures, seizure disorders, anxiety-depression, and arthritic pain.  Very importantly, it has a measurable positive impact by lessening opioid overdoses which SHOULD be enough to give Nanny Jeff pause.  In fact, I was in an ER the other night and had the chance to ask a doctor if he could compare the number of drug overdoses he sees front-line in terms of heroin, cocaine, meth, opioids, and pot.  You all know the answer.

state-of-marijuana

Note: some of the medicinal marijuana states like Illinois have such poorly drafted legislation that almost nobody qualifies; pot is an expansive drug with many properties that can be bred into the plant for pain relief, sustained effects, etc., and also bred out of the plant (like the stoned-ness).

The rallying cry for all citizens should be removing marijuana from the FDA’s Schedule I list; we should upgrade methamphetamine from Schedule II to take its place!  Anybody can tell you that meth causes more personal degradation and community crime than pot.  We can ease jail crowding by getting low-level pot-related criminals out of jail and help them get jobs by expunging their criminal records.  Akin to state-sponsored lotteries, the weed-related taxes should go to education and assistance for those who have problems handling what for most people is an ordinary indulgence like a good stogie or a cold beer (glass of wine, shot of whiskey, etc., etc., etc.).  Same rules apply:  not for kids, not for driving or work.

Where pot is illegal, it is not unavailable.  Non-regulated weed is “marketed” by your local gangs.  Sure, you may have your benevolent pot-head underground but somewhere there’s a 4×4 with $13K of bundled weed as cargo and THAT person is most likely armed and dangerous.

More states are considering legalization and those states’ citizens need to speak out.  You don’t have to want to use it yourself to open the marketplace to those who need or want to use it… but you do need to let your leadership know how you feel about the possibility of turning this law enforcement cost into a revenue source, and about rebuking the FDA for its wrong-headed adherence to a no-pot agenda while slipping and sliding on the atrocious behavior of big pharma and opioids, price gouging, and their unholy alliances.   (Don’t think those aren’t connected.)

Illinois considers legalization

Nebraska and Medical Marijuana

5 Lies You’ve Been Told About the US Legalizing Marijuana ⇐ Google/Bing/dogpile search if curious

If you accept the premise that Donald Trump is acting in loco parentis to the citizenry insofar as he has primary influence on environmental, legal, health, welfare, housing and other key survival elements of the country, then he’s made a wrong move letting the AG Nanny Jeff tell HIM what to do.  In fact, the populist sentiment is clear that a majority of citizens don’t want to waste time and money browbeating pot users when we could be taxing it as a commodity.  Trump repeatedly claimed that he “got it” as a states’ right issue in the campaign, so easing up on pot would be a big WIN for a man who craves that sort of thing.

Come on, Mr. Trump, be Presidential and help us out, especially those states with bleeding red budgets!  Plus, it would piss off those “bad hombres” you tweet about who profiteer from this tone-deaf resistance to a legal marijuana marketplace.

Oh, and if you need references for Nanny Jeff then look at the history of his influence on law enforcement and social justice in Alabama.  Jefferson Beauregard Sessions III has pursued a race-based agenda for a long time.  The best predictor of future behavior is past behavior.  

#readmore

 

 

 

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State Regulated Weed = follow the money

kathleen k, regular marijuana, states rights,

Regulating marijuana is a question of political priorities and for me gaining state revenue on marijuana outweighs losing money on law enforcement because at risk is the profiteering of criminals who do not necessarily limit their nefarious activities to the friendly herb.  Prohibition funds mob-gang behavior.

Besides, predictable-dose edibles are a boon to the consumer!!!

Special thanks to the Internet:
http://www.vandergreg.com/search?q=marijuana

Look at Washington State’s pot revenue here.  It’s a bit of cash, not a flood; it goes to social programs related to health and welfare; it’s coming from taxable businesses who employ people at their stores, and growers, and delivery folk, even accountants, etc.  It is a BUSINESS of and for the people.  Let it be; hell, let it spread.

This Colorado county did something smart with a weed tax.

The bureaucratic hell-hole complicating things is the Federal Schedule I drug designation of marijuana, placing it in a more dangerous category than cocaine or methamphetamine! (Please search Faces of Meth to refute this.)  This is a cultural error reeking of bone-headed politicians; it ignores (and limits) the research and applied science of medical pot plus anecdotal evidence of uncountable hours of crime-free recreational use.  This Schedule I designation is also the entry point for Federal intrusion when pot should be a States’ Rights issue akin to other sin-tax initiatives like liquor, tobacco and gambling that rely on local nuance.  We need to keep the pressure on to correctly categorize this herb as the natural substance it is so that communities may judge it fairly, and use the revenue to enrich their citizenry.

COMMENTARY:  I am all for keeping synthetic pot on the Do Not Fly list since it seems to qualify as “engineered” like coca leaves vs. extracted cocaine thus changing its cultural and actual impact:

“The prophetic “Legend of the Coca Leaf” presages us of the difference between the way the leaf is used traditionally in the Andes, and the corrupted form used by Western conquerors. As the Sun God said to the Andean wise man Kjana Chuyma: “[coca] for you shall be strength and life, for your masters it shall be a loathsome and degenerating vice; while for you, natives, it will be an almost spiritual food, for them it shall cause idiocy and madness.”

These facts and others like them can be found on the new Coca Leaf subchapter of Drug War Facts at http://www.drugwarfacts.org.


For an interesting social history on marijuana, clickety-tap here.


PLEASE ENJOY THESE FREE WRITING SAMPLES FOR MATURE READERS from my pot-centric sexotic book Stoner’s Bone of Contention which is second in the Stoner series mixing artful rhetoric with heady philosophy and sensual escapades:

kathleenk_erotica_sexoticaotcentric_Stoner_with_a_boner

I haven’t stopped getting high. I mean, I still get high when I smoke, the effect hasn’t worn off. It’s a long story but, believe you me, I’ve been banging the bong for decades and each time I respond to the Pavlovian chime in my head that says, You’ve Arrived on High Street. It’s a place in my thoughts providing a different vantage point, my redoubt. Stoner Town is peaceful and self-sustaining, to be there is to have arrived at launch. Once you are high, and know you are high, then what comes next is what you do while you’re high. I walk, I watch movies, I make beautiful love with ordinary women. I drift far from my work-a-day world. I’m not running away, I’m stepping aside. I’m experiencing a moment through the softening gauze of ganja. I’m well-read enough to know the word ganja is not Jamaican, mon. I consider toking to be my private bridge to serenity.


The bustier. I love a long-line bra that circles the torso and provides shelving for the breasts. To see beautiful mounding tops shoved up from a controlled midriff emphasizes them, yes, but not beyond what they are… there is no padding, no filler, it’s the glory of engineering. Although it is a furtive pleasure, it is not a secret.

All kinds of bras catch my eye but this particular garment skips far past the purported medical/cosmetic reasons to cradle the boobs and serves them up as tidbits, choice and tasty.


Cold out tonight, my fingers stiffen but I’ve never found gloves suitable for toking in the snow. Fingerless gloves leave the gap between fingertips distorted, thickened. In fact, the gloves are not fingerless, they’re tipless, so the fabric extends up the finger quite a way. It’s aggravating but not enough to dissuade me from hitting a doobie in the hush. If it’s really cold I will alternate a glove from smoking hand to lighting hand. I used to balance the joint between my lips but I gave that up when an ember stung my chin and I heard the sizzle of the joint in the snow at my feet. Only half-way high, lucky to have been in the thick of a gentle storm, bummed by the mechanical failure. This white night I had a spare on hand, determined to experience my solitude as the flakes drifted over everything, with sheltered negative spaces that escaped the fall but would be filled in with drifting later. It’s the pregnant part of a snowfall when you can’t know how long it will last, how wet-dry it was, so much depended on the air through which it floated, that little bit heavier than air yet subject to the wind’s whim. Snow fall, mood rise.


JoEllen, JoE (long E), JoE, agreed to eat a pot brownie with me, chased with ice cold milk, then we played a game of Scrabble. It takes a while for the pot to hit, and it starts with silliness about words: herd hard heard hoard. We’re in tune, the stone intensifies and hits our bodies, we’re on a rug in front of the fireplace, it isn’t like getting the spins when you’re drunk, you aren’t out of control, but neither are you in control, you are acceptant not resistant, perhaps that is the difference, you are unconcerned about control. JoE is staring into the flames, her image flickering for me, and I disengage my own sensors, giving her more time to BE over-stimulated. I am in a protective hover around her, knowing this kind of body high is surprising at first. She’s got to make the first move, that’s just how it is between us, so I factor in the delay as she acclimates to being high as a star in an extra-dense body. When she finally does lean toward me (topple into me), I got a strong sense of her intoxication. High-yaiyai. She started showing me her stuff, her shirt came off, her pants were undone, and I knew she was close to making her choice. If she retreated, it wouldn’t have been a tease. If she continued it was a one-time that-time  only thing. I understood she ran the gate.

Her hand slipped over mine and lifted it to her lips for a soft kiss, then pressed it to her cleavage, spanning the swell of her sleek tits, they didn’t wobble or bounce, they were firm and full with magenta-crowns and a stiff thick nub; once she put my hands on her we were open.

I’d been with JoE stoned and straight, she idled high if you know what I mean, she was tuned up and ready to go, even after a few beers when she was languid in general, she was sexually intense. This night the pot brownie seemed to have hit the root of her restlessness, she was still and quiet and sexy in a significant reinterpretation of her body language. She was so high that only the most compelling motivations survived and those were to be held and stoked from ember to flame. I fed her and oiled her long before I dared to connect. It was going to be a long night.

Tiny tea-cup titties. JoE believed she had the same number of nerve endings as found in those gargantuan tits that seemed so popular, she handled her little beauties roughly to show me what she liked: she liked to show me what she liked. One hand fondled her top half while the other toured the bottom, drawing my attention to the flat planes and pronounced curves of her personal circus (her term), her need to show and tell – even when wrecked by the brownies – was her signature, I realized, the thing she did to prepare herself for giving over to a man. If he couldn’t wait for her to explain things, well… maybe he wasn’t her kind of guy after all. I knew enough to enjoy her ritual; I understood not to panic if it seemed we weren’t making any “progress” toward “sex” when in fact it was all about making peace to proceed to passion.

She was a pretty girl with a kind heart and a wicked sense of humor; I had no problem lounging around with her, stoned beyond speech, enjoying my view of her, filling up with anticipation. Part of the challenge was to keep myself contained, not lunge for what I wanted. I felt an intense desire to pull her up against me and shove myself inside but that’s just my little head talking, he’s extremely short sighted (one-eyed).

I had rescinded my dick’s decision-making role. It could scream and twist and dribble down my leg but it did not select my partners nor pace my activities. Taming it took years, I didn’t break its spirit, I did not crumble its hopes: I gave it structure and dignity and let it off leash only when I’m ready to respond to its choices. I let it romp when the time is right; I surrender to its dick-ness because in fact it is very purposeful with full support from all the rest of me, delivering the essential connector, not my kissy lips, not my probing fingers. No, those were mere servants to the Ultimate Goal of Intromission, the taking of a woman’s space, her secret world. No doubt, my dick does the fucking. I am careful to set the stage and interpret the indicators because once the fucking starts good sense fades, responsibility is pounded away, we are doing what we are built for, coupling. I’m a beast when I know that she wants that part of me, that she’s called out audible signals, made all the right gestures, has teased us forward, and she’s ready to say yes when I ask if she is sure. She can still wave me off, so far we’re just playing; she has to be SURE because, for all my good manners and rational thought, once authorized then I’m a full-blooded rip-roaring dick on the loose.

I like fucking the naughty ones, the ones who dare you to show yourself. JoE was one of those girls for me, she was firm in her demands and specific in her examples, I rode her hard yet she matched me back, every time I went in deeper she rippled around me, bucking her hips to double the impact when we collided. I could put all of myself inside her, slip it back out, possess and surrender, because that is what she wanted. I couldn’t believe how much she wanted it, not at first, not until she showed me.


#Readmore

 

States’ Rights are not a la carte: Of Pot and Potties

The doctrine of States’ Rights is not something the Federal government can pick and choose at will to enforce; yes for potties and no for pot.  Transgender bathrooms?  Regulated marijuana?  It’s a much bigger foundational American IDEA:  let the states do state stuff and reserve national interests for the feds.  It is the well-used path toward a smaller federal government which is the goal of many conservatives, liberals, and independents alike.

Federal pigheadedness on marijuana is a time and money waster for citizens; official speakers (Mr. Sean Spicer, just as an example) need to educate themselves on how pot and opioids interact, and understand the “cause” for opioid addiction is big pharma (and their unholy alliance with prescribing physicians):

(http://fox6now.com/2017/02/24/are-recreational-marijuana-and-opioid-addiction-linked/)

There are even studies that show lower opioid overdoses in states that legalize medical marijuana and I will let you guess how that might work on recreational users too:

http://www.herbs.org/herbnews/2014/09/medical-marijuana-states-have-lower-opiate-overdose/

cig-legal-weed-not-legalWhat we need is a coherent overview on the “nanny state” and how much it should work against “sin” like vice, gambling, liquor, tobacco, soda pop, etc.  Mostly I believe in taxing behavior and letting those who want to engage do so at a price.  Reduce taxes on good behavior.  Carrot and stick, people.

States like Illinois have complicated their medical marijuana rules to the point they do not serve the deserving let alone provide the kind of relief that is hoped for by those who suffer from less stringently defined ailments like nausea from toxic cures or insomnia from mental confusion-exhaustion after a year of surgeries.

I lived through the roll-out of Washington state’s regulated marijuana and can tell you there was no sharp rise in crime but a definite upswing in state tax income.  Ditto the other states who have realized there IS a difference between “natural” marijuana and the corrosive impact of engineered drugs like meth, heroin, OxyContin, Fentanyl, Propofol.

I take the position either legalize pot or criminalize alcohol:  gasp!  They are intoxicants that serve no other purpose than to alter body-mind chemistry.   You have to tell the truth about booze to face the facts about pot.  And here’s another perspective.

As for transgender bathroom rules, I like the “family bathroom” idea in public places so that people who have to exert more control for the good of themselves and others are afforded privacy.  I know there is a cost involved; I know transgender is a “lightning striking” word so I wish we’d find a way to understand that bathroom services are a baseline of dignity and safety starting with the odd distinction that we expect men to pee in open troughs and women to always use private stalls.  Let’s standardize on stalls for all!

 

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HempFest – 25th Anniversary of a Protestival in Seattle – Welcome, weedies.

kathleen_k_stoner_with_a_bonerRead this:  https://www.amazon.com/Protestival-Seattle-Hempfest-Year-Retrospective/dp/B005JTK6QU

The medical liberation of marijuana truly matters but please don’t downplay the silly blaze prized for its own grace.

Consider the slow and steady grind to pot legalization, the States are rolling up pot with the liquor and tobacco in spite of the FDA’s wrong-headed categorization of weed as dangerous.  Instead of listing it as herbal and worth study; they implement this idea with our money to frustrate our legitimate inquiry.  We all “know” weed works somehow with the brain and mostly the effects are positive.  The fact is the more we know then the better we dose: some pot strains take the floaty-head stuff out and leave the pain relief, others go for sustaining waves of synapse jazz.

Marijuana enables some to lower dosages of more powerful pain meds, it can enhance an expansive hopeful attitude to buoy the spirit in times of illness, even if only by a strong social association with peace, love, and rock and roll.

In the spirit of HempFest weekend, when minds roam free, here’s something to think about since the Pot War is over.  Love∞sex, anyone?

https://kathleenkbooks.com/2015/03/23/too-much-porn-not-enough-sex-learn-to-ride-the-tide/

 

 

 

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Interview with the Voice of Sexotica for the Rowdier Reader

kathleen_k_sexotica_erotica_indie_author

Reader of Novels – Art in the Public Domain

It was my great fortune to be noticed by a lively blog for authors and people who work with them, orchestrated by a bona fide “resource” in the book business.  This compendium voices book-community interests.  I recommend it for indie author-publishers, and book consumers no matter age or station.

Interview with the Voice of Sexotica for the Rowdier

BookMarketingBuzzBlog

I’ve included a bit of sexotic text below, just by way of example.  This is an excerpt from Stoner’s Bone of Contention (The Weightless Joint) intended for mature audiences with open minds.  Potcentric, sexotic fictional memoir.


The double-tub with jets and shower hoses was a statement piece, hidden elements like thick insulation and sound baffling were part of the simple luxury of the bedroom suite, the one-armed long couch had crisp fitted slipcovers of washable fabric, there were area rugs (suited to bare bottoms) sitting on top of room rugs (suitable for bare feet) offsetting easy-mop hardwoods and tile pavilions. There were two double bedrooms, four guest beds, because even with one guest there can be the sex bed(s) and the sleep bed(s), there is the option to stop one phase and begin another without the mundane chore of immediate cleanup.

Janna drank sips of bourbon all night long, while I sucked up little hits of pot. It was not our intention to get wasted because the sex was too good to blur. We took breaks, replenished ourselves, we readjusted our framework. Janna gave as good as she got, we overheated from time to time, so ardent that we added too much fuel to the fire. I’d see her eyes glaze and realize I’d been pounding into her with my own eyes closed for a long long time before I looked down and saw her stunned and finished. I eased up, backed off, made the sad decision to disengage and shoot it like a firework.

That private retreat was the only single family dwelling I owned in the city, it was maintained by a different contractor and not part of my property management business. Part of my decision about Janna took this into consideration because I had not allowed these two elements to cross. My party life was my own, I withdrew from the work-a-day world reassured my real stuff had been insured, monitored, was waiting for me. Lead me to the luxurious linen and sturdy furniture. Layers of window coverings from sheer to blackout: I had designed window shades that snapped to the sill. Each bedroom and the smoking den were ventilated by silent fans, with slim radiators featuring artsy dials setting low to high, and dimmers on the light switches; this was a polypurpose place.

The availability of four double beds led to many combinations of guests so the rooms were filled with sensual memories. Someone like Janna meant so much more because she shared it with me and turned it to her advantage. She understood how cute she looked tummy-down on the ottoman so I could stare, stupefied, at her flaring ass then track the crack to her darkness. Eventually she’d lean on her forearms, straightening her legs to rise then bending her knees to settle in for round two of teasing. More of her hints were exposed but nothing… tangible. I felt her promise.

She put this show on in the smoking den, so I could toke along, phases settling one atop another until she grabbed her own ass cheeks and pried them open, pulled them up-out-back to show me my ultimate target, commanding me to take aim.

She wanted what I wanted, good hot balling, letting the carnal rule, laughing when I growled up into her pussy as I twisted her tits, feeling her buck and knowing I’d be mounting her soon, not yet, but soon, so I was all the more serious about heating her up. Nothing gleams like a wet cunny, weeping with the desire to be filled, crying for cock. Not all women ever get to feel that reckless joy but Janna had no qualms about sharing this most extreme hunger for sensation. She didn’t care if it wasn’t pretty, because it was so fucking real. We got off on each other, on our slamming tight and rocking back, we had matching parts and similar intent. She meant to control me through my cock and I intended to let her.

She did me, she let me and made me and prevented me, forestalled and goosed me, those were just her ways of communicating to my preverbal brain to stay on task, this was not about me coming but about me fucking her and riding her and turning her over to re-enter from some other angle. I knew I would come, later, I would spill into her waiting void, but not yet, and not just once.

 

#readmore

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Gazin’ through the haze: Legal weed

kathleenk_books_erotica_potcentric_stoner's_bone_of_contention_2headsAs a Washingtonian, I have access to legal weed.  I have been to the legal weed store once, it was a bare-bones storefront, with a “greeter” outside the door making sure you understood there were no samples, no returns, cash only, ATM inside.  It’s a cottage industry for sure, they have three mis-matched display cases with edibles, smokables, and assorted accoutrement.  I dig the tax argument so in fairness I wanted to pay that extra freight in solidarity.

The news about regulating marijuana is good, overall.  No widespread stoner-mayhem on the highway; no uptick in toker assaults (although reports of aggressive bro-hugs increased).

Colorado and Washington were always green and clean, when you think about it… of course the idea that there is a beneficial herb growing in our verdant valleys is no surprise.  We’ve got that live-and-let-live Western outlook too, pairing nicely with large vistas, mountains and forests.  We might be dismissed as hippies but we’ve got the jobs, we’ve got the geography, we’ve got the fresh air.  Can’t call it causal but hardly a coincidence.

I do believe that taking pot-crime smudges off people’s permanent records allows them to apply for jobs, and rent apartments, and be productive.  Frees crime fighters to fight crimes that hurt people like assault, battery, domestic violence, rape, murder, slaughter.

As other states ponder decriminalizing personal use, I look at it this way:  Government should get in to the pot business or out of the liquor business.  It’s that simple… weed was misclassified near heroin instead of alcohol.  If we’re passing out pills for social anxiety, we have to admit that marijuana is a beneficial herb that helps break negative-neurotic cycles for some people and is no less valid a treatment option.  Think eucalyptus, camphor, menthol, other odiferous balms from nature.  Think tea leaves and coffee beans and berry juice… we look to nature for comfort and entertainment.


SAMPLE – ROWDIER READERS ONLY

The Stoner memoirs are about pre-legal weed and the freewheeling sexual escapades of a bad boy with good manners.

from Stoner’s Bone of Contention (The Weightless Joint):

kathleenk_barry_messer_mandot_stoner's_bone_of_contention_potcentric_sexotic

Barry “Mandot” Messer did cover and interior art

Since I knew I’d be stoned at the party, I had grabbed a cab over (to keep crisp) and expected to walk home.  It was just a mile along well-lit streets then a quick trip up a side street to my place.  Noranna didn’t mind walking alongside me.  She opened her jacket, then her blouse, then she unsnapped the front of her bra, while we were walking along the well-lit sidewalks, and I could see her beautiful breasts swinging free.  She told me to slide my hand into my pocket and tell her what my dick was doing.  I had to confess it was thick, choked up, so she skimmed one hand down the length of my dick but skipped past the balls and reversed up her own torso to cup one sweet breast for me, to offer a piece of herself to me, because she wanted me to have it.

I resisted the impulse to jam my hand into her panties, not something I previously considered as an opening move.  She was daring me, double-dog daring me to admit my strong urges.  This was all happening fast, from hitting a pipe at a party to diner steak & eggs to her turning the corner to my street and scooping me up against her, my prong trapped between us, her sharp whispers in my ear.  What’s hotter than someone surprising you with their confidence that you are a powerful sexual force?  You are exactly what they’ve been waiting for.  It’s time to bring it.

≤÷≥

I don’t need a lot of laws to control my behavior:  don’t drive stupid, don’t act stupid, and don’t perpetuate stupid.  I don’t need laws against variations of drunk driving, distracted driving, reckless driving… it’s all stupid driving.  The stupider the infraction, the more distressing the payback assigned.

Drug laws are no different, too much detail in the no-no-no.  If we apply the Stupid Standard, then the drug isn’t illegal, the Stupid is.

≤÷≥

I’m a dreamer.  I fall asleep against the crisp canvas of my clean sheets, entering the bed from either side, not having a “spot”.  The bed is calm and clear and waiting for me, prepared for my return.  The body must be at rest for the mind to unlatch and spill its secrets, some riddles are to be remembered, others remain hazy.  I can tell I’m reliving primal themes in dreams, our brains demand it, and if not accomplished at night will snatch waking hours mimicking psychosis.  I trust myself to shake out the crazies while safely anchored in my nest, cocooned.  The overarching image of my deepest dreams contain different places with the same secret room I have seen/experienced but cannot find again.  I’m not frantic, I’m sure that room is there, somewhere, and I will find it if I’m faithful to the quest.

I’m always hoping I might have female company in the bed, some lucky confluence of energies engulfed in a pristine backdrop for those tender beginnings.  I am concerned about “signals” for the readiness of your partner, and it is for that subliminal assessment that I present the glory of a simply set stage of fresh linen upon which to act.  Sex is luxurious and instinctive, it is rutting and roiling, naked (defenseless) enhanced by a clean slate.  I prove ready.  It takes a whole lot of optimism to prepare for the sublime every single day.  It’s well worth it when it works!

 

#legalizeweed

Hempfest 2014. We’d win the weed war.

Happy Hempfest 2014.  For most of  us, there’s no need to scurry down to the Sculpture Park to buy a little buzz… seasoned Stoners knew this day would come:  we’d win the weed war.

The Stoner series of potcentric sexotic fictional memoirs elevates toking time to a sacramental endeavor.  The books twine reefer and romance through the eyes of a mild guy with a wild side.  He’s the guy you want to come to your party.  His way with women is not a trick, it is a knowing.  Same-so his cultivating a righteous high.  He pays special attention to both.  Because they matter.  To him.

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SAMPLE — Stoner’s Bone of Contention (The Weightless Joint)

I’m an old Stoner.  This dealer is young, proud of his scale-disguised-in-a-CD-case, so I politely hmm and umm as he explains it is precise to fractions of a gram.  Ahh.  As he talks I take a paper and crease it along the unglued edge so that about a quarter of the paper is folded lengthwise.  I tap my tongue along this edge, and the paper separates cleanly when pulled.  In the three-quarter paper, I sprinkle some of what he’s brought that I’ve carefully picked apart.  The joint is thin, a pinner.  I roll another.

I let him get a few hits ahead and then I mention there’s a better way to smoke this joint, while I pinched off the wet end so the smoke could move through.  He is to balance the joint between his thumb and forefinger, not mash it, he should position it so that the smoking-end of the j is not quite to the face-facing edge of this bridge.  Hold it only as tight as required to maintain control.  Use those arched fingers to ferry the lit joint to your lips.  The outer three fingers will curl up and away from the burning end.  You sip in air through (and around) the joint, leaving it dry.  This method makes that caricature of pot smoking, the pursed lip inhale.  I notice few of this Bong Generation have any idea how to roll a good doobie, or what to do when handed one.

I toss the other joint onto his scale and it registers 0.0.  He cocks his head to the side, silent.  I take it off and hand it to him.  It’s the same size as the one we’ve burned through so we both know it holds at least two highs.  He pokes the scale and the display changes.  He lets it reset then places the slender joint on the scale.  0.0

“Is that a weightless joint?”

“It’s your scale.”

“It weighs something.  I mean, just the paper weighs something.”

“A wisp, a few sprinkles of pot… not enough to register.”

“But it does register.  It registered on me.  If we just got high on nothing, then wouldn’t your pot last forever?”

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?”

“It must add up.”

“What?  All those zeros add up to what?  A big fat zero?”

“That’s a whole lot of nothing, dude.”

#stonerliteracy #sexualthoughtfulness #Hempfest2014

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Stoner Thanks WA State Voters for Giving Peace a Chance

Seattle’s only legal pot store ran out of weed, it closed until it could get some more.  There were no riots, nobody panicked.  Weather reports indicated the sun was due up the next day as usual.  Clue:  pot is readily available here and has been for some time.  Not at the grocery but certainly in the neighborhood.  Everybody’s got a brother-in-law who knows a guy, or has a crazy Aunt Ginger with the shady girlfriend.  For details about the world of home-grown dreams, check out Stonerwithaboner.com, gateway to “a memorable sexual escapade” introducing a mild man with a wild side seeking reefer and romance.

The regulation and commerce of weed continues to advance across the nation, tendrils of this freedom creep outward from WA and CO, edging up to medical pot and then softening the rest of the No-No-No.

Peaceful revolution, overall.  You’ll always have your fringe users blowing up their garages during marijuana extraction experiments but you also have a guy who lit his house on fire trying to kill a spider with a lighter and some spray paint.  Message here, keep it simple:

  • “There are safer, more effective ways to kill a spider than using fire,” Moore said. “Fire is not the method to use to kill a spider.” As for the spider, Moore said: “I’m pretty sure the spider did not survive this fire. The whole wall went.”

Don’t judge the majority by the antics of the stupid and deluded.  We’re swinging a pendulum here, easing up on the possession of pot but tightening up on impaired drivers no matter the source of impairment:  liquor, drugs, rage, selfishness.

Raise a toast.  Pass the doobie.  Let the pendulum swing.

Life Plan:  Support yourself then indulge yourself.

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Free e-reader – Vintage Boomer Porn – You do or you don’t, you will or you won’t: click here.

#readmore #stonerliteracy #regulatepot

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